I was running through a wood.  Brambles pulled at my clothes.  My hair was tangled in low hanging limbs, brushing across my face like fingers.  The path was sandy, and my heels sunk further into the loose and shifting soil with every step.  I made little progress, despite my efforts, and I was tiring quickly.  Golden dancing lights sparkled behind me, and I faltered every time I looked back, losing my footing on the uneven ground.  Despite the need to escape, I was eerily calm.  The impediments to my movements didn’t do any damage, just hindered my forward progress.  Still, I pushed on.  I knew if I was caught by the lights, I would never wake up.  The trees pushed closer, the path dwindling to a thin line before disappearing completely.  Long grass twisted around my ankles as I fought through the thickening underbrush.  The wind picked up, and the branches began to swing rhythmically, hitting each other in metered slaps against the neighboring trunks.

              Rap. Rap. Rap.

              I looked behind me, and the lights had moved closer, growing brighter with every breath.  I walked backwards, staring at the beautiful spectacle, my heart pounding in my chest as I swayed under their power, unable to turn away.

              Rap. Rap. Rap.

              I tripped over an unseen cliff, falling in slow motion as the lights overtook me, succumbing to their hypnotic dance.

              Rap. Rap. Rap.

              My eyes opened, and I stared at the ceiling, my thoughts still foggy from the dream.  Another harsh knock on the office door startled me, and I sat up quickly.  After a dizzying moment, I managed to get to my feet and find my shoes.  My hair was a mess, despite my hasty attempts to straighten it on my way to the door.  The nearly empty bottle and half full tumbler on the desk told me all I needed to know about why I had almost slept through the appointment with the new client that had prepaid for my services.  I cursed under my breath and unlocked the door, plastering on the brightest smile I could muster.

A young blond man, barely in his twenties, haggard despite his youth, almost gave me a black eye as he went to bang on the now open door.  I pulled back, avoiding his fist by less than an inch.  After a second of staring me up and down with increasing disapproval, he looked at the door and then back at me before crossing his arms over his chest haughtily.

“Detective…. Lange?”  His voice was a mix of indignation and curiosity, with a healthy dose of annoyance.  “I’m sorry…is Detective Lange here?  I’m supposed to meet with him about my wife.”

“Please, come in and have a seat.”  I didn’t bother correcting him, partly because he’d already paid, but mostly because it was easier to let him figure it out on his own.  If there was going to be an issue with a client, it was best they decided that with as little input from me as possible.  I started opening the window coverings, letting in the bright morning light.  He watched me, still unsure what to make of me, though he felt no compunction about walking straight into my office instead of taking the client seats in front of Alice’s desk.

“Is sleeping in the office a perk of your job, or his?”    His leer made the implication unmistakable, and I began to regret we’d already taken his money.  He pulled out a cigarette and lit it, taking a long pull as he settled himself into his seat.  I opened the window nearest him, knowing it would do little to clear the acrid smell of smoke from the room, but it also gave me an excuse to get a better look at him.  He was more handsome than I had initially thought, the haunted look in his eyes and gaunt frame detracting from an otherwise chiseled jaw and strong profile.  His shirt was storebought, but his pants were army issue, meaning he had at least spent some time overseas.

“I assure you, it’s not a regular occurrence, Mr….”  I was rummaging through the paperwork on Alice’s desk, gathering it up to bring with me.

“Fenwell.  Mike Fenwell.”  I froze and left the papers where they were, sure I’d misheard.

“I’m sorry.  Did you say Mike Fenwell?”  My eyes narrowed as he turned over the back of the chair towards me.  His expression conveyed his disappointment in my intellect, and he rolled his eyes.

“Yeah, sweetheart.  Fenwell.  I know I didn’t give you my name or nothin’ over the phone, but you should at least have gotten that when you deposited my check.  It was pretty clearly written on the return address of the envelope, too.”  His eyes raked over my body again, lingering on my chest and legs far more than I was comfortable with.  “I see now why he keeps you around.”

My mind raced.  Two Mike Fenwells?  Not in a million years.  One of them had to be a fake.  The case had suddenly gotten more interesting.  I had to keep him talking, get as much documentation as I could.  Guess I would be playing the role of the floozy side piece a little longer.

“Sorry.  I can be such a drip.  It’s just that…”  I paused for effect, letting my face bloom into an epiphany.  “That’s why he wants me to ask for your ID!  We had someone come and try to get your money back!  I can’t believe I almost forgot!”  I blushed and giggled, pushing my cleavage forward more than necessary as I smacked my forehead.  “Do you have your ID?  AGO letter, ration book, driver’s license, or anything like that?”

“Someone tried to take my money?!”  He exclaimed, face red with immediate anger, fists balling at his sides.  “You better not have given it to them, because that wasn’t me!”  He started huffing about the office while I scurried back to Alice’s desk to get all her notes, making sure to keep him in my line of sight.

“No!  Of course not!  Detective Lange has more sense than to do that!  You may not know this, sir, but there are quite a few unscrupulous people in this world.  Part of our job is making sure we know the difference.”  I waltzed in, hips swaying, and placed the papers on my desk, then sat on the corner, picking up the bottle and tumbler and brushing my leg up against his with some plausible deniability.  “I can see I’ve upset you.  Would a drink help calm you down?  This is all my fault, I’m sure.”

He reached for the glass, not caring that it had been filled before he entered, and swallowed the contents in one go.  I gave him time to let the liquor sink in.  I didn’t want him to get drunk, and off my booze especially, if I didn’t have to.  He wiped his mouth on the back of his hand and set the empty glass back on the desk, taking another healthy ogle of my gams as he leaned over.  I kept my smile dumb and plastered to my lips.

“It’s alright, I guess.  Just the last thing I need to lose, on top of everything else.”  He sunk in his chair after looking wistfully back at the hall door, hoping to talk to anyone but me, I guessed.  “The appointment was for nine, wasn’t it?”  He glanced at his watch nervously, then put his cigarette out in the empty tumbler and lit another.

“Let me check…”  I bent over the side of the desk, scouring as much of Alice’s writing as I could while giving him a decent distraction, then smiled at him, sadly.  “I wrote down ten.  My fault again, I’m afraid.  Let me just get ahead with the paperwork, as long as you’re early, and we can clear up this whole identity issue before you know it.  Obviously, you’ll qualify for a discount due to the inconvenience.”

We spent the next fifteen minutes going through his papers, me still playing the dizzy dame and flirting hopelessly with him until he was fully mollified.  He had just about as much paperwork as Mike had, and it was just as legitimate looking.  I’d have to find a way to compare them directly. 

The second Mike insisted Laura was missing, not just acting strangely.  They’d married right before he’d shipped off to the ETO just under three years ago, and he’d only returned last month.  He claimed they had been living in a boarding house, with no families to speak of, and little to no possessions.  It had been a wild, passionate affair, the couple falling madly in love after meeting at a war bond rally, and, as the years passed, the only memory that kept him going.  Speaking about Laura, and their romance, lifted years off his face.  He sat straighter, spoke more confidently, and I could see the man that could sweep someone like her off her feet.  By the end of the conversation, he’d even smiled once.

I laid everything out neatly on the desk and silently cursed myself for letting Alice take the smaller and more manageable Bolsey 35mm, then grabbed my trusty Ektra from the bathroom.  Mike number two helped himself to more of my alcohol as I carefully photographed everything and then gave it back to him.  He looked at his watch again.  “Thank you for bearing with me, you’ve been so helpful.  Did you say Detective Lange spoke with you on the phone about your meeting today?”

“No, no.  About the retainer, a week or so ago.  Said you’d moved offices, but the mail was still being collected at the old place.  We had a laugh about government efficiency.”  I smiled, but my heart dropped.  I needed to talk to Laura, now more than ever.  It sounded like someone had fed this guy a line, taking advantage of his absence to run off with his wife, and using my name to throw him off her trail.  Then again, I’d seen Laura and Mike together when I’d tailed her through the past week.  They interacted in a way that only came with true intimacy and time.  This guy couldn’t relate all the details of her family history and childhood the way Mike could.  He didn’t have countless pictures and stories of life with her.  Of course, those could have been obtained during the second Mike’s absence.  My head spun.  I needed proof, but all I had was conjecture.

I was about to explain who I really was when the hall door opened and Chief Carlson waltzed in, dressed in his civvies, balancing a bag of donuts and a couple automat coffees precariously.  He raised his full hands in greeting and was about to address the second Mike when I rushed over, quickly kissing him on the mouth before he could speak.  He tensed immediately, then returned the kiss with a hungry vigor I was sure was more than visible to the man sitting at my desk.  I extracted my lips eventually and took the food and drink from his befuddled hands, chattering quickly and loudly as Denny removed his hat and coat, still flustered from my attack.

“Detective Lange!  I’m so glad you’re here!  And you brought breakfast!  That’s so kind of you, especially considering I told you the wrong time for your appointment with Mr. Fenwell here, and he’s been waiting ever so long.  I’ve already gone through his identification and cleared up that nasty business about the retainer, so if you just wanted to walk him through any questions I didn’t cover in my notes there, I can leave you two boys at it and go make myself scarce.”  My eyes begged Denny to play along, as I sidled up next to him and escorted to my desk chair, putting the coffee and donuts between the two men.  He frowned at me, his bald pate wrinkling in its familiar disapproval, but when the second Mike turned to face him, he was all business, and I knew I would owe him, big time.

I kissed him on the cheek quickly, then retreated, closing the inner office doors and collapsing into Alice’s chair, trying to calm down.  The low voices rose and fell for another hour before they emerged, shaking hands and smiling.  I looked up from the morning paper I’d retrieved in time to see the second Mike shake his head at me with a knowing smile, then leave.  Denny stood in the doorway, arms crossed and eyes staring me down so hard I felt like a bug about to be squashed.  “What the hell was that about?  Here I came all the way down to bring you back your license, which I didn’t have to do, by the way, hoping for a nice breakfast for old times’ sake, and you push me into a case!  Have you lost all your marbles?”

I pouted sheepishly but knew he was absolutely right.  I floundered.  “I’m so sorry, Denny, I’ll make it up to you, I promise.  Just…listen, okay?  The guy who just left?  He’s looking for his wife, right?  Blonde, tall, gorgeous?  Says his name is Mike Fenwell.”  I rattled off other details as I blew past Denny to grab the photos from the dark room and bring them to him.  “I’ve been tailing her all week.  For Mike Fenwell.”  I thrust the pictures in his face, exasperation getting the better of me.

He looked at them dubiously.  “So?”

“So!  This is the first time I’ve laid eyes on that man!”  That got his attention.  He blinked and looked at the photos again.  “Someone claiming to be me had already contacted him, which is why I pulled you in when you showed up.  The Mike Fenwell I’ve been working with knows everything about this woman.  I’ve been to their apartment, I’ve seen her kiss him goodbye in the morning.  Either she’s a very talented bigamist or one of them is lying, and I need to find out which and why.”

I went to my desk and popped the hidden compartment holding the filing key.  I opened the top drawer of the locked cabinet and stood on my tiptoes to pull out Laura’s file.  I could feel Denny’s eyes on me and hoped the kiss at the door hadn’t been too much for him.  When things ended between us, it hadn’t been because he had wanted it to.  I had done everything in my power to make sure the only person he was thinking about was me, at Alice’s expense.  As dumb as I felt about possibly being duped by a client, I felt even worse for leading Denny on then, and didn’t want to do it again.

The papers spilled out over the desk, and I stared intently at them, looking for inconsistencies from what I’d seen earlier that morning.  Because most everything was typed on mimeograph or hand written, you had to look at the things that would be the same regardless of what had been added to the page.  Usually that meant a stamp would be a different color or shape, or a date would be written out numerically instead of alphabetically.  Denny moved around behind me, looking over my shoulder with a clinical eye.

“This really has you going, doesn’t it?”  His voice was soft and warm, even a little concerned.  I didn’t answer, my eyes flicking furiously over the pages again and again, knowing I was rushing but unable to stop myself.  Denny’s observation was an understatement.  I was horrified.  I had been having a lark with a potentially married man, who now might not be who I thought he was at all.  The possibility of Mike being single relieved some of my guilt, but it was replaced with the fear that he was a predator of some kind.  There was something else nagging at me, too, deeper down, but I couldn’t put my finger on it.  I continued to stare at the desk, the words blurring into meaningless squiggles as I broke down and wept.

Denny put a hand on my shoulder.  “Hey, Champ.  It’s okay.  Really.  No harm done.”  He swiveled me to face him and knelt down, tilting my chin up and brushing away a tear with his thumb.  His ice blue eyes were soft, his hand warm on my cheek, and suddenly we were kissing.  It wasn’t the rabid ferocity I had greeted him with, or the hungry longing he had returned, but a fragile, exploratory compassion between former lovers.  It was a tentative heat, ready to be fed and rekindled, but just as likely to be snuffed out by a quick gust of emotion.  The kiss ended and he cleared his throat.

“Denny…I….”

“I’m…no, it was me.  I’m sorry.”  He stood quickly, picking up the trash from amidst the papers.  He pulled my license out of his pocket and dropped on one of the pictures of Laura, then he turned to go.  He looked back at me for a moment before he donned his hat and coat.  “Let me know if you have trouble with this one.  I don’t want you to get hurt.”  His eyes spoke volumes that his pride wouldn’t let past his lips.

I nodded from my seat, feeling the large bulge in my throat trying to block my response.  “Thank you.  I will.”  The door closed and he was gone.

I spent the rest of the morning developing and comparing the information I’d gotten from both Mikes.  Then I spent all afternoon reviewing it again.  My head ached, my back was sore from hunching over my desk, and I was still no closer to understanding what was going on.  I hadn’t stopped for lunch, so my stomach protested loudly when the smell of burgers from the nearby diner wafted through the still open window.  The single desk lamp cast eerie shadows in the twilight dusk of the empty office.  I was tired, hungry, and hadn’t changed clothes in almost two days.  I needed to go home.  I turned out the light and locked up the office, ready to be done with Laura and anyone named Mike ever again.

A warm meal and hot shower had me feeling a lot better as I sat in my apartment, reading, though I’d barely managed to finish a full page in the hour I’d been there.  I was trying to take my mind away from the case, but it wasn’t working.  I kept berating myself for missing something, for being a chump, for being too interested in Mike and Laura’s looks to see…well…anything else, really.  It wasn’t even as if anything had happened with them, just my lonely heart fantasizing about things I couldn’t have.  And then I’d gone and drug Denny into it, by kissing him no less.  He was a good friend, and a good cop, and I had no right to force him into anything like I had.  I wanted to make it up to him, but, like my case, I was out of ideas.

The phone rang, jolting me out of my depressive spiral.  I picked it up, wondering who would call so late.

“Hello.”   I froze.  It was Mike’s voice.  I didn’t remember giving him my number, but I was in the book.  “How is my good girl?  Why don’t you come pay Laura and I a visit.”